


Expand and Release

by FortunesRevolver



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: For Mikleo anyway., M/M, Sorey is a big fanboy., The SorMik here is kinda light.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 23:11:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7911256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortunesRevolver/pseuds/FortunesRevolver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And....?” Mikleo raises and eyebrow and waits, his gaze able to follow Sorey’s uncertain movements with ease. The silence continues to stretch between them before Mikleo’s eyes alight with understanding and he pulls his arrow away from the bow to point it at Sorey. “Do you want to try?”</p><p> </p><p>Back before the burden of shepherds and hellions, Mikleo teaches Sorey how to use a bow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expand and Release

**Author's Note:**

> So it wasn’t until about halfway through this fic that I remembered Mikleo is left-handed while Sorey is right-handed. Which, technically speaking, means they would be using different bows. Whoops. Oh well, I’ve used both types of bow myself and I managed to make them both work. ~~No one is gonna tattle on me, right? Right.~~

Crouched behind a grouping of bushes and trees, Sorey watches in quiet fascination as Mikleo runs his fingers over the curved length of his bow and inspects the limbs intently. A low, methodical thrum sounds as he pulls the string and tests how taut it is and tugs away loose leaves that have wrapped around it on their trek there. It takes only a few minutes before Mikleo nods in approval, satisfied with the condition of his weapon and rolls his weight to his toes.

As Mikleo stands, Sorey finds himself lost in the view. The way Mikleo raises his bow is fascinating, from the curve of his fingers around the grip to the subtle twist of his wrist as he nocks an arrow and takes aim. His gaze is calm, tight focus replaced in favour of a relaxed, loose expression. His eyes, however, remain sharp, and lock on the prickleboar just a few yards away as he lets his shoulders fall with a long, slow exhale. Every movement he makes is smooth and fluid, guided by grace that takes makes Sorey’s cheeks grow warm and his pulse race.

The wind picks up and blows against them and pulls their scent away from the boar and carries pale strands of hair up into a delicate dance across Mikleo’s cheeks. With a sudden gust, Mikleo’s bangs take flight, thrown into the air as broken sunbeams dance of the golden metal of the circlet that has rested against his forehead for as long as Sorey can remember. It’s hypnotic, _entrancing_ , and for a moment, Sorey forgets the world around them completely.

“Wow…” he exhales as he’s pulled back to earth by the sharp tinge in his chest that reminds him he needs to _breathe._

“What?” Mikleo frowns as his focus breaks and he lowers his aim to look at Sorey. Something in the glazed eyes of jade is off, and concern starts to replace his irritation. “Sorey?”

“I, um…” Sorey clears his throat as quietly as he’s able and feels embarrassment start to crawl up his neck. He hadn’t _meant_ to voice his amazement, not before Mikleo had fired, but now that Mikleo’s focus is on _him_ rather than the prickleboar, he tries to come up with a reason for interrupting the shot. “I just… you looked really cool like that, and I…”

He what? He scrambles and searches his mind for _something_ that sounds more coherent -- and much less embarrassing -- than a messy and sputtered attempt at _‘You look so beautiful like that...’_

“And....?” Mikleo raises and eyebrow and waits, his gaze able to follow Sorey’s uncertain movements with ease. The silence continues to stretch between them before Mikleo’s eyes alight with understanding and he pulls his arrow away from the bow to point it at Sorey. “Do you want to try?”

It’s not quite what Sorey had in mind, but he takes the excuse and nods. It’s better than choking over the truth and risk giving Mikleo something more to tease him about.

“Here…” Mikleo holds out his hand and Sorey takes it as he rolls his weight and springs to his feet with bubbling excitement. He takes the bow as it’s offered to him and immediately begins to look it over as he saw Mikleo do before. If he’s honest with himself, he likely wouldn’t know a ‘good’ bow from a bad one -- he knows swords better after all -- but it doesn’t stop him from trying. Mikleo is so, so talented with a bow and he looks absolutely _amazing_ when he’s in his zone; if Sorey could emulate even half of that, maybe Mikleo could understand what he saw whenever he watched him.

“Stance first.” Mikleo’s knee nudges the back of Sorey’s and his leg immediately buckles and thinks Mikleo wants him to kneel -- perhaps because of the height difference? -- but when he hears the clicking of a tongue, he knows he’s taken it the wrong way. “You’re right-handed, left foot forward and right foot back.”

“Like this…?” Sorey asks and tries to stand in the footprints Mikleo left behind. It’s uneven and sloppy for someone his size and Mikleo bends his knees with a sigh and grabs Sorey’s ankles one at a time, guiding them until they’re in a proper stance.

“A bow is stationary power; unlike a sword, you don’t need to use your own strength and weight to throw power into a hit.” Mikleo stands and raises his arms, one held out as he draws the other back and goes through the motions of drawing an invisible bow and releasing it. “The bow is an _extension_ of yourself; not an addition.”

Somewhere between Mikleo’s adjustments of his legs and Mikleo’s fake bow, Sorey had gotten lost in Mikleo’s _everything_ once again. He made it look so easy, so natural, it seems completely impossible to him that anyone _couldn’t_ be captivated by it. He was just so--

A sharp prod to his side and palms on his hips pull Sorey back down to earth and he jumps. Mikleo’s hands guide his waist side to side until they find a proper balance. Almost unconsciously, Sorey’s feet follow the movement and adjust to better hold his new centre of gravity. “You’re too tense,” he chastises and brings his hands up to Sorey’s shoulders to squeeze them. “Relax. You’re just going to hurt yourself.”

“O-oh,” Sorey nods and holds his breath as Mikleo’s start to slide down his arms. “Sorry, I…”

 _“Relax,”_ Mikleo repeats, his voice just barely a whisper as he grips Sorey’s shoulder. “Focus on my breathing and match it. Don’t worry about everything else.”

“R-right,” Sorey nods once more and shuts his eyes as he inhales, long and slow before he releases it and tries to match the rhythm of the chest that rises and falls against his back. “...right.”

“Now for the draw…” Mikleo grabs the arrow he almost shot earlier and slides it along the arrow rest until he’s able to nock it against the bowstring and slips it into Sorey’s grasp. “Focus your sight and follow the shaft to your target. Draw back and… release!”

A dull _twang_ sounds as the arrow shoots forward, arcing weakly in the air before it impales the ground some ten yards behind the prickleboar. The creature freezes, its eyes wide as it looks toward the vibrating object protruding from the ground with a weary gaze. No one breathes, and the fear of having lost both his shot and his dinner falls heavily on Soery’s shoulders. Maybe this _really_ wasn’t a good idea.

All his gusto for wanting to learn something new -- and perhaps, maybe, impress Mikleo just a little bit -- starts to fade. His shoulders sag as a small frown spreads over his face, but pale fingers against his elbow give him pause. The prickleboar, miraculously, has not run. After several minutes of caution, it has returned to poking and sniffing at the grass, and Sorey feels his chest swell with delight.

“Mikleo--” Sorey begins and his eyes brighten; _he has another chance!_

“Shh...” Mikleo steps up behind Sorey and runs his hands along the length of Sorey’s arms, cupping his elbow and hand as he guides Sorey back into a ready stance, a new arrow already in hand.

This time, Sorey relaxes without being prompted and presses his back against Mikleo’s chest. Cool, pale fingers keep his steady as watches the prickleboar in silence and tries to steady himself for the next shot.

“You’re losing your focus with your aim,” Mikleo mutters, each word causing the feathers of Sorey’s ears to flutter under his breath. “Leave that to me for now; I’ll trust you to expand and release.”

“Mm…” Sorey’s absent response is little more than a hum as he shuts his eyes and lets Mikleo adjust their arms. Each movement is slow and careful, but so easy and natural, and Sorey wonders if this is how Mikleo feels when he moves all the time -- just like water.

When he opens his eyes, he follows Mikleo’s earlier advice and traces his gaze along the length of the arrow. At the end, he can make out the thin point of his arrowhead and sees how it lines up with the body of the prickleboar. He shuts his eyes again with an exhale and lets Mikleo’s next inhale guide his eyes open as he draws back once more and… _release._

A soft _woosh_ rushes past Sorey’s ear as the arrow takes flight and soars neatly through the air, plowing into the prickleboar’s flesh with a _thump_ followed shortly by the _thud_ of a heavy body.

Neither of them move as Sorey stares at the results of their work. He barely believes it, and a slow, brilliant grin blooms across his face as he spins around. “Mikleo! Did you see that? I did--Mikleo?”

Sorey blinks and turns back around to watch as Mikleo leans over the bush to peer the fallen boar. He’s silent for several moments as he strokes his chin in thought before he finally turns back to Sorey.

“You did alright… for a beginner.” He smirks, smug and playful as he crosses his arms, “But your form is still too sloppy. You need to work on that or you’ll never hit a target without my help.”

“What?” Sorey rolls his eyes and leans the bow against the tree beside its quiver. “That’s a little harsh. I think it was a great shot for a second try.”

“I guess it was…” Mikleo hums and moves to retrieve the arrow, “but you can’t always count on a handicap.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’ve got the best teacher around.”

To Sorey’s delight, a light flush colours Mikleo’s face as he looks to the side with cheeks just barely puffed out. “Who says I’ll give you another lesson?”

“Oh great and powerful Seraph Mikleo, please deem me worthy of your time and teach me, a lowly human, of your secrets. For if I could have just a hint of your talent, then perhaps I could--”

“Enough already,” Mikleo feigns an irritated scowl and looks to Sorey. “Just stop before I gag.”

“So… you’ll help me?”

“If you’re going to keep that up, I don’t have a choice.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Sorey smiles as he climbs over the brush to join Mikleo beside the fallen boar. “Besides, I think we make a pretty great team.”

Unseen by Sorey, a small, but warm smile graces Mikleo’s face as he kneels to inspect their catch and debates what the best way to get it back home would be. “Yeah,” he runs a finger along their arrow and nods, “I guess we do.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on a prompt I came up with and posted on tumblr, but people really seemed to like it, and I figured "why not?" and went with it. I was asked not to the the Obvious thing, so I tried really hard _not_ to, but I'm not sure I managed to do so. I'm not entirely certain what the Obvious thing is, but here is hoping I didn't do it?


End file.
